


We'll turn it around

by shedrovemehere



Category: Being The Elite (Web Series), Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Accidental Eavesdropping, Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Star-crossed, Treat (kinda), lowkey secret murder plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15711288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: Kota has just been eliminated from G1 Climax 27, and in his haze he gets lost backstage. He accidentally overhears a conversation between Kenny and the Young Bucks as they film Being the Elite, and he realizes he has to take action.Prompt: "Ibushi sees Kenny and the bullet club filming Being the Elite and watches from the shadows while trying not to get caught by them."





	We'll turn it around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imadeamistake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imadeamistake/gifts).



> I'm so sorry if my submitting this throws a wrench into anything! I completely fucked up the due dates; I had it in my mind that our fics were DUE on Summer Slam day instead of revealed that day. I felt terrible about it, so I completed the request anyway, even though I know someone would have been sent to pinch hit for me. 
> 
> I hope I have not duplicated someone's work, and THANK YOU to the pinch hitter who took up my slack. Now my recipient gets two fics, which I hope are different!

“To Goto-san, you fought well; please go on to win A Block.” He paused and took a long breath. “Is that enough?” When none of the reporters said anything, Kota shakily got to his feet and stumbled away from the backstage comment area, knees buckling with pain and heartbreak, eyes already bleary with tears.

It was over. With this loss, Kota had been eliminated from the G1. Now there was no way he could win, no way he could prove himself. _Failure,_ he chided himself. _I’m nothing; I should never have come back._ After a match like this, when every bone and muscle ached with horrible ringing pain, he could never stop himself from feeling everything full force. _I hate this part._ As much as he knew it would happen, as much as he tried to prepare himself from the inevitable rush of emotion, he always felt helpless; washed away by the wave. When he won, he was pure joy, but when he lost, he could only pitifully wish he didn’t feel so much. _My fans deserve better than a worthless, empty loser. I’ll never be what they think I am._ Kota leaned against a wall and sobbed, feeling his way along the hallway toward the locker rooms. He couldn’t hold his head up, he was dripping with sweat, and trying to wipe the tears from his eyes only stung.

The locker room door wasn’t where he’d expected it to be, and it took all of his power to brace himself against an unfamiliar doorway and open his eyes enough to peer through the tears. His vision was frustratingly murky; he was vaguely aware he needed water but had no idea where in the labyrinth of identical corridors he was. _Couldn’t even find my way back to the locker room. What a miserable idiot. Lost in a hallway I’ve walked through hundreds of times._ He knew if he could just find a Young Lion, they could help him, he didn’t care how stupid he looked getting lost. Nothing mattered. Weeks of brutal matches hadn’t broken him, but when coupled with the sickeningly tense backstage maneuvering it took to avoid Kenny…

 _Kenny._ Kota hated himself; in moments like this where every filter and protection was stripped away, he always found his heart reaching for Kenny. _Idiot. There’s nothing there but hurt._ Kenny was gone—had been gone for a very long time—and with him went so many things Kota could never get back. Kenny was the one person Kota had let in close enough to lean on, the only thing he’d ever allowed himself the vulnerability to say _as long as I have this._ And he was gone, really and truly _gone_ , replaced by a gruesome caricature. _I’ve failed at everything I’ve ever cared about._ All he wanted now was to somehow propel himself into a taxi, so he could drink at the hotel bar, ideally until someone had to carry him back to his room.

He slowly pushed away from the wall, needing to at least find water and hopefully find the locker room. But his ankles no longer wanted to support his weight, and his legs collapsed under him. He stumbled inelegantly until he bumped into a vending machine, and let himself slide down until he was slumped against the side of it. The tears flowed and he made no effort to stop them; he just just closed his eyes and allowed his body and mind give up as they’d been begging to do.

He didn’t know how long he sat there numbly, allowing the humming motor of the machine to send little vibrating waves into his skull. At some point, he became aware of distant voices echoing down the hall, sounding like they were coming closer. Maybe they could help him find the locker room, if he could find the energy to crawl out into the hallway.

“Okay, cut. Now we just have to get a shot of Cody listening.” Even though he could hear them now, the echoing hallway and Kota’s very shaky English made it impossible to understand what they were saying.

“Hey, what’s your deal?” One of the voices interrogated someone, who replied quietly enough that Kota couldn’t hear.

“I thought you weren’t watching.” Now he could hear them more clearly. That was one of the Young Bucks, maybe the taller one? Kota didn’t know which one was which by looking at them, and definitely not by their voices. _Maybe I won’t ask for their help after all._

You said you didn’t care what happened, that you’re beyond all that now, remember?” The other Young Buck. English was tough; Kota could only catch a word here and there. But he had a feeling about who they were talking to.

“Goto? _Hirooki_ Goto?” _Kenny_ . Kota’s stomach dropped. He didn’t need to understand English or even Japanese to hear Kenny’s tone and know _exactly_ what he meant by that name. Now Kota definitely needed to stay put.

“Look man, everyone’s tired—“

“—I’m sure he—“

“He _promised me._ ” Kenny hissed “promised” like it tasted bad in his mouth. That, Kota understood; Kenny had been talking about some nebulous “promise” since the beginning of the G1. Kota had looked up the word the first time Kenny tweeted about it.

“No he didn’t, Kenny. He hasn’t said _anything_ other than that he was afraid of you.”

Kenny made an exasperated snort, at that. From the way the Bucks were speaking to Kenny, it sounded like they were saying things they’d been thinking for a while, but holding their tongues about.

“When was the last time you even talked to him?” Kota understood that one too, and his chest felt like it would cave in at the realization that _he_ didn’t even know the answer to that question. It had been too long. Longer still since Kota had heard anything but anger, poorly-hidden sadness, and false bravado in Kenny's voice. It had been so strange, these past few years, to hear all Kenny's blustery, over-the-top promos; Kota would recognize the sound of Kenny’s voice in any lifetime, and yet… that was _not_ Kenny _. I know you’re in there._

“It doesn’t matter,” Kenny snapped. “We were going to meet in the finals, and now we won’t. He lost to _Goto._ ”

Kota already hated himself for losing, and he didn’t need to hear the mocking sneer in Kenny’s voice. He especially didn’t need the instinctive, bone-deep certainty that he'd _also_ heard thinly-veiled despair in that sneer.

One of the Bucks cleared his throat. “Kenny—“

“ _I_ beat Goto in the finals last year,” Kenny said haughtily, as though he somehow knew Kota was listening. “And because _he_ couldn’t, he ruined our chance.” Kota didn’t understand some of that, but he got the point well enough. “He _clearly_ doesn’t care,” Kenny said, so obviously hurt and choked up that Kota felt tears burning the corners of his eyes again. He’d suspected Kenny missed him, but he never thought he’d get to hear it in his voice, even if it was the fake, angry voice of The Cleaner. “I've held up _my_ end of the deal.”

The falseness in Kenny’s voice and the way he’d blamed the whole thing on _Kota_ made Kota’s dumb impulsive heart race. He wanted to jump up, reveal himself. _I’m right here, Kenny. We don’t need a damn final. Let’s talk._ For a moment he was exceedingly grateful for his inability to move, for the feeling that his chest had collapsed. If he’d been able to stand… he shook the thought away. He was _always_ seeing what he wanted to see when it came to Kenny. At least that’s what he told himself. Hoping hurt too much.

He heard one of the Young Bucks sigh like he was trying to be very patient. “You know, I’m sure you could just—“

“Are we going to film, or what?” Kenny pointedly interrupted.

“Sure,” the other Young Buck sighed. “How many of those energy drinks do we need?”

 _Shit._ Kota understood "energy drinks," and had the presence of mind to remember he was leaning against a machine that sold them. He felt like none of his muscles could move, whether it was the self-loathing or the exhaustion didn’t really matter. But he managed to drag himself into an open but darkened supply room next to the vending machine. He slumped back on the wall in the dark, just out of the light flooding in from the open door, heart clenched as he heard someone just around the corner putting coins into the machine. He both hoped and feared it was Kenny, and that somehow Kenny would sense he was so nearby.

“Ha, I’ll get a very _special_ one for Tama.” It _was_ Kenny. Kota’s breath caught to hear his voice _so close,_ even if he didn’t know what Kenny was saying. He was again thankful for exhaustion saving him from impulse, but it ached to know that if he just said _something_ , right now, maybe…

“Okay!” Kota heard one of the Young Bucks call from down the hallway, laughing. “I’ll film you walking towards me with all the cans in your hand.”

“Nice,” Kenny said loudly, still buying quite a few drinks from the machine, and from the sounds of it, inserting then re-inserting the same bill a few times. As he waited for the vending machine to dispense the drinks, he sang to himself quietly, thinking no one could hear. And it wasn’t the angry, unhinged villain who’d been using Kenny’s voice, it was just Kenny; the first time Kota had heard him in _years_.

_Can you hear my heartbeat?  
_ _Tired of feeling never enough  
_ _I close my eyes and tell myself that my dreams will come true_

Kota realized he’d already been holding his breath, and choked back a sob. _You’re still in there._

* * *

Overhearing that conversation made Kota feel hopeful in a way he hadn't been able to kill, and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. That final night, when he heard _three,_ then the crowd light up, then Naito’s music start, he hastily left the locker room and rushed down the hallway before he really even knew why. This time, he wasn’t exhausted enough to override the impulse. And as he hurried through the corridors, he realized he didn’t _want_ to stop the impulse; if he didn’t do this _now,_ maybe he would never be foolish and hopeful enough to take this leap. He walked as fast as he could, knowing exactly what he had to do, but when he heard the throng of reporters and cameras coming close, he just froze.

The taller Young Buck saw him first. “What is _he_ doing here?”

Kenny, barely able to stand on his own, stumbled over his feet as he slowly realized Kota was standing in front of him; for better or worse, frozen to the spot. The Young Bucks tried to hold Kenny back, but he lurched forward.

One of the brothers held him back. “Are you sure you wanna do this, man?” Kenny said nothing in response, just pushed forward as though he had no other choice. Cameras flashed and the Young Bucks yelled something at the press, trying to keep them away, presumably, but all Kota could see was Kenny, using the last of his energy to close the gap between them for the first time in years.

Now Kenny was the one who was too exhausted for pretense, and he wilted as soon as Kota’s hands were on his shoulders, leaning into Kota’s touch, eyes closed, head bowed.

“Kenny,” was all Kota could think to say.

“Ibutan,” Kenny sighed, almost a choked sob. For the second time this week, Kota heard _Kenny_ , not The Cleaner. “Ibutan,” he said again, and Kota wanted to pause time, record the sound of Kenny’s voice—the real Kenny—calling him a name he thought he’d never hear again.

Their conversation was a blur, and Kota could actually see Kenny’s face harden as he fought to shut himself off again, keep himself from facing what they meant to each other. He clapped a hand to Kota’s shoulder and walked away, the Young Bucks glaring back at Kota as though he’d kicked a puppy.

Kota waited for the self-hatred and shame of failure to overwhelm him, but they didn’t come. He couldn’t pretend, now, that he hadn’t seen the truth when Kenny collapsed into his arms.

_You’re still in there._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Both the title of this fic and the song Kenny sings to himself are lyrics from the theme to _Yuri on Ice_ , Kenny's fave anime, which is about a sports dude who sees another sports dude on TV and moves to the other side of the world to do sports with him and they love each other. Not sure why Kenny would be into something like that.
> 
> I'm not actually sure if it was Goto who eliminated Kota last year, but it's not super important to the story! I did try to figure it out but I drew the line at actually going back and watching the matches!
> 
> Also, around this time in Being The Elite canon was when they were trying to murder Tama Tonga with a poisoned energy drink.


End file.
